


With Ease and Difficulty

by honeypuffed



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Desk Sex, M/M, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-02
Updated: 2012-09-02
Packaged: 2017-11-13 10:16:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/honeypuffed/pseuds/honeypuffed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik catches Charles having sex with a man he's never seen before, and he can't get the image out of his mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Ease and Difficulty

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/6527.html?thread=11159423#t11159423) prompt at the meme.

The image strongest in Erik's mind for the good part of July is an image of Charles's legs: pale and shiny and glistening with sweat (and god knows what else), wrapped around a man not quite Erik's height, not quite Erik's build in general, in fact, but with skin just a bit darker and blond hair maybe an inch longer. It's an image he can't shake - understandably, though, considering how long he had watched them, how long Erik had stood at Charles's doorway, incapable of ungluing his feet from the carpet even though he was sure Charles would sense him soon enough, and then- he didn't want to think in hypotheticals.

But Charles had never even noticed him there, maybe never even noticed that they'd left the door just slightly ajar, just enough for curious, wandering souls like Erik to look through and see Charles inside, getting positively _fucked_. Charles had done his utmost to keep quiet, Erik could tell as much. He'd had a hand in his mouth, stifling his cries, while the rest came out in breathy gasps as the man shoved in again and again, fucking Charles hard and rough and _hungry_ into the twisted sheets beneath them. And those _legs_ , Charles's fucking _legs_ had clamped tighter around the man's waist as he came ever closer to the climax, toes scrunching and flexing and then scrunching again.

And Erik had left abruptly.

Charles might have been preoccupied enough then to not notice Erik's brain running a thousand miles an hour, but pretty soon...

Anyway: shaking that image and other various physical and mental incapabilities in the month of July.

1\. Erik cannot look at or think of Charles without remembering him getting fucked.  
2\. Erik cannot get into bed and close his eyes without remembering him getting fucked.  
3\. Erik cannot do either of the above without suddenly transforming everything into a fantasy where he is fucking Charles himself.

To be honest, he's surprised that Charles hasn't picked up on it yet. And he _hasn't_ , of that Erik is certain, because Erik is sure that if Charles did see it on his mind, then he'd at least have the decency to be embarrassed about it. But Charles has been abnormally serene lately.

Maybe it's because he got properly fucked recently, Erik thinks suddenly and laughs to himself, ignoring the glances from the others. Of course, it's not so funny after he takes a second to register that other feeling he has swirling around as pure jealousy, simply at the fact that Charles is getting some, because god knows it's been too long since Erik was with _anyone_. He's horribly pent up, and if he doesn't do something about it soon, Erik thinks he might honestly explode.

And even though he seems to be able to grab the attention of girls who don't even realise they're way too young for him (no name-dropping, because that would be rude), that's not what he wants _at all_. He just wants to fuck Charles. There's no denying it. He wants to pull Charles into his lap and kiss and strip and caress him, or stop him in the hallway and drop to the floor and suck him off, or do him up against the fridge with Charles's back pressed into his chest and cock sliding against the metal as Erik thrusts in, time and time again until Charles is begging, _begging_ for release.

But he wants to be around afterwards as well, which is more than anyone could say for Charles's previous... partner. Erik briefly wonders who it might have been. A neighbour? An old college friend? A rent-boy, god forbid?

He doesn't have the time to be thinking about this now. Nor the place, really. Everyone's still eyeing him quizzically, and he's half-hard and only partway through his dinner, where everyone else is already done. Any moment now, someone is going to ask what's wrong - likely Charles - and he's not going to have an answer to give them. Sorry, I was thinking about fucking Charles against the fridge? Maybe not.

Charles frowns and, as if on cue, says, "Is there something wrong, my friend?"

Erik pointedly doesn't make eye contact. "No, not at all," he says in the cheeriest voice he can muster up that doesn't sound completely insincere. 

Charles is still unconvinced, and he continues to stare at Erik, apparently trying to divine the problem without resorting to telepathy. Erik can tell he wants to; there's a feeling akin to tapping, knocking perhaps, when Charles is hovering around just outside his mind, waiting to be invited in. He considers, fleetingly, just letting Charles dive in and immerse himself in everything Erik has been mulling over the past few weeks, but that wouldn't be fair on Charles, more than anything else. Especially at the dinner table. It is tempting though.

But no. Not right now. Charles is still frowning when he stands to take his plate to the sink and Erik pokes at the mash potato on his plate. He isn't really even hungry. Sean opens his mouth like he's going to say something but then clamps it shut, turning to Alex and muttering something Erik can't quite catch. He isn't acting _that_ strange, is he? Whatever.

Erik doesn't come anywhere close to finishing his meal, so he scrapes it onto a smaller dish and puts it in the fridge, not really intending to finish it, but it feels wrong to waste so soon. Once the others have departed, he loiters around the kitchen, washes his hands a few too many times as he tries to decide what to do, and then thinks, Alright. Time to sort this out.

Charles is sitting quietly in his study, writing at his desk when Erik enters without warning. Charles jerks around, surprised to find Erik suddenly hovering at his shoulder, and Erik laughs because god, Charles is seriously out of it these days.

"I didn't hear you come in," Charles says, softening his expression to a small, welcoming smile. "Did you need something?"

"Yeah," Erik says lazily, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

Charles politely stands up, pushing his chair away so they're on even ground. "What is it, my friend? You looked distracted at dinner."

"Yeah," Erik says again. "You can look, if you like."

"I would like," Charles whispers and brings his fingers to his temple.

Erik laughs. Probably not for long. It only takes a minute for Charles's expression to shift from smiling to frowning to shock and then - _finally_ , Erik thinks - to embarrassment. His face turns the deepest possible shade of crimson, and Erik has maybe never wanted him more. He stretches his lips into a grin that's all teeth, smug and entertained and oh so turned on, and he backs Charles up against his desk and presses their bodies flush together. Charles is hard as well. _Perfect_.

"I would ask for permission, but," Erik starts, but then Charles has his hands at Erik's trousers, fumbling to undo his belt and then his fly, so Erik just clears the desktop with a sweep of his powers and tugs Charles's pants down over lithe hips, and shoves Charles back until he's sitting on the edge of the desk. He pulls Charles's shirt off over his head, and then his own.

"Fuck me," Charles breathes out, eyes locked on Erik, filled with lust and sincerity and even trust.

Erik doesn't need to be told again. He places a heavy hand on Charles's neck and kisses him hard at first, breaks for a second to look at Charles, then kisses him again, softer, eyes falling closed as Charles lets his mouth fall open, lets Erik slide his tongue in, slick and shameless and insatiable.

"Do you have..?" Erik asks, pulling away and waving his hand in a vague gesture that shouldn't exactly be understandable.

"Top drawer," Charles answers, the rise and fall of his chest impossibly quickened and erratic.

Erik leans towards the drawer and opens it, grabs at the small bottle that's all but sitting on show. "This _is_ your study, isn't it?"

Charles doesn't dignify that with an answer, and he snatches the bottle from Erik's hands and pours the liquid into one hand before haphazardly wrapping his hand around Erik's cock and stroking. Erik's breath catches. This is an acceptable distraction, in any case. Charles retracts his hand, pours just a bit more over his fingers and drops the bottle on the desk as he slides his hand down between his own legs.

"You probably don't really need to-" Charles halts and blushes furiously. 

Erik quirks an eyebrow, smirk curving onto his lips. _What, prepare you? Didn't realise you were such a slut, Charles_ , he says and Charles tries to hide behind his hands but Erik tugs them away and kisses him again. "Okay," he says, aloud this time. "I won't." He smiles pleasantly as he runs his hands up Charles's pale thighs, squeezing and watching as red fingerprints swell into sight and then fade once more. These _legs_.

Erik doesn't give any further notice before proceeding, simply pushing in as Charles lifts his legs up and knots them around his waist, pulling him ever closer and meaning that Erik is already all the way in and _god_ , he wasn't kidding. He rests his head on Charles's shoulder for a second, nips and sucks at his neck as Charles whimpers and tells him, _Come on_.

It's all the motivation he needs to start moving, to start thrusting his cock into Charles over and over, finding a rhythm as he grips Charles's waist, as Charles brings their mouths back together and sucks on Erik's tongue. Erik shoves in again as the contents of the desk drawers rattle and shake.

"College friend," Charles gasps out.

"What?" Erik shifts his position slightly so he can thrust a little deeper and clamp his hands tighter at Charles's sides.

"Fuck," Charles cries out. "Fuck, Erik." He scrambles to put hands around Erik's neck and then kisses sloppily on the mouth. "You were wondering who he was," he explains. "He was a friend from college."

"Of course," comes Erik's response, slightly choked because fuck fuck _fuck_ it's been so long and Charles is so good and hot and perfect and-

"A rent-boy? _Really_ , Erik?" Charles squeezes his legs tighter and then slides one teasing foot down over Erik's ass.

"I was considering all - _ah_ \- possible options," he manages, then kisses Charles's jaw, his ear, his temple where he holds for just a moment to feel Charles's pulse beating sporadically under his lips, his hips ever moving, ever sticking to that rhythm that had been all too easy to find. 

Charles's eyelids flutter closed. "That's always important," he says, but his words lack definition.

Erik thinks he must be close. He must be close, because his voice is strained, must be close because, christ, he can feel Charles's cock hard and leaking against his stomach.

 _I am_ , Charles tells him. "I-"

 _Good_ , Erik replies and pulls almost completely out before slamming back in, and Charles gasps and his cock twitches impatiently as he scrapes fingernails down over Erik's chest.

"I can't- _Erik_."

"Mm," Erik grunts in reply, and Charles comes just seconds before he does, sticky and hot all over Erik's stomach as Erik releases inside him with a cry of ecstasy.

Charles pulls their lips together again and kisses him slowly, languorously as they ride the last waves out, trying not to drown in it all.

Erik doesn't think he would mind drowning, if it felt anything remotely like this.

"Can I sleep with you?" Erik asks without thinking. He still hasn't pulled out and he's struggling to find the energy to do so, to move at all from where he is.

Charles bursts out laughing as he shuffles back on the desk and helps Erik pull away. "What?" God they've made a mess of this place.

Erik carelessly hands Charles his discarded turtleneck so he can clean up. Plenty more where it came from, anyway. "I mean actually sleep," he explains, and then feels a little shy in spite of himself. His heart lodges itself in his throat and he tries (and fails) to swallow it back down.

A beatific smile splashes onto Charles's face and he hastily replies, "I love you too, my friend." He pauses. "But maybe next time..." he trails off, massaging the back of his thighs where he can still feel an indent from the edge of the desk before. He idly licks his lips.

"In an actual bed?" Erik grins. "Yeah, that's what I was thinking."

"I'll be in when I'm done with my writing," Charles continues. "If you want to wait." He casts his eyes over to the pile of paper and pens and various other things on the floor.

Erik follows his gaze amusedly. "What _were_ you writing?"

"Oh," Charles says coolly, looking back to Erik. "An anonymous letter to a sexy lady."

"Naturally," Erik laughs.

Charles nods. "Why, of course."


End file.
